Just breathe
by Damionic
Summary: Dick knew that the it took every ounce of what Damian had in him, but he was still the same person on the inside. He was still the same brother that he loved and he would never forget that. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alternative Universe**

 **DC Comics characters are not mine.**

* * *

It was dreadfully dreary outside. The sky was gray, and the canvas before him was blank, so he took it upon himself to paint anything that came to his mind, and what had came to mind for him was the cityscape. He hadn't been outside in months, and most of the times he could only make out the blurriest of images that smudged against his memory. The greens of the trees that were now brown since fall had descended upon Gotham and the blues of the oceans.

They were all so familiar yet too far for him to reach completely so he would stand to imagine them both for now. Taking the brush within his hand, he ignored how it shook, and simply focused on the dull blue coating it's tip, moving to make a smooth stroke upon the course cloth that covered his easel, but his joints all cried out in a ache that he had become so accustomed to. His wrist cramped and instead of the smooth stroke he pictured, it was yet a jagged line that skittered off the easel's expanse and the boy gritted his teeth. It had been an attempt, the tenth one in less than two weeks of screams through still teeth and ripped boards that laid in shreds upon the floor when all else had failed for him and he was tired.

So tired that his fingers that were wrapped ever so loosely around the stem of the wooden brush went slack and it fell to floor with a soft clack, the blue paint splattering on the nearby wall in small specs. The boy could feel his shoulders grow heavy and his eyes droop futher down upon themselves. It was a small ordeal, but the fatigue that settled over him was a swift yet silent one and it made him numb. Numb to think and far too numb to move and all he could do was stare at the smear of blue paint that he had created.

"Damian?"

The voice was smooth and gentle as it came from the doorway behind him. He never bothered to turn to see who it was though, for he already knew quite clearly. Even with his muddled confusion and the memory loss that he was currently suffering from, he could never forget that voice. The one that calmed and reassured him through his declining health and everything else related to as such. Dick had been the first one to know of the child's condition all those months ago. The first one to respond when his father had contacted him after he decided to come over on his own accord. There was no denying that the situation at hand had taken a toll on the young man, for he had given up his role as Nightwing for an extended period of time in order to look after him while his father was out on continued patrol of Gotham. He had gone somewhat reluctantly and the boy could understand the dilemma, since he had been through it before, but Dick had assured that he'd keep a constant vigil over him, even opting to take residence at the manor which he did a few weeks later and has been living there since then. Damian pretended to seethe at his his newly instated accommodations but it would be a lie if the boy didn't perk up at the thought of his old mentor staying with him for he had taken a fervent fondness of the older man.

The boy's gaze fell into his lap as he stared at his fingers and started to slowly twiddle them within each other. They were frail and a pale blue, much like the rest of skin and he could tell that it was time yet again. The man who had been propped within the doorway drew closer until he stood directly in front of him, soon bending down to his eye level with the smallest of smiles gracing his lips.

"You ready to go?"

A scowl settled up the boy's features. The answer in his head was no and it always had been. He hated the transfusions. Hated them deeply ever since they had begun a few months ago. At the beginning he even vehemently spoke out against them, saying that he didn't need them and how it was useless to put him on the regimen but as time passed and he visibly and physically got weaker he eventually took them, albeit warily. Damian remained silent even through the intense gaze that the man was giving him, but with a warm hand through his hair, flipping through the slight bangs he'd grown, he met a similar pair of blue eyes and the man's grin broadened.

"I know you don't like getting them and they can take awhile to get through,"the boy upturned his bottom lip. "But after you get done with these you won't have to worry about them for another three weeks."

It was easy for him to say it because he didn't have to go through them, but those three weeks were the longest three weeks as well as the shortest imaginable to the boy when you're sitting on a cold steel table for 2 hours looking up into the dark expanse of the Batcave. It was truly a boring experience, but the sooner he got over with the transfusions was the sooner he could rest because he could already his eyes slowly closing and his body surrendering itself from lack of rest.

The boy tutted, crossing his arms over his chest and the man, from living with the boy for so long and picking up on his mannerisms, knew this as his silent agreement. Placing his two arms underneath his back and beneath his knees, he hoisted the boy into his arms careful to support his swollen legs and not to put any pressure upon them. The boy was practically immobile. He could not go anywhere by himself and had to be assisted constantly to ensure nothing caused him to exert any more energy than necessary due to his weakened heart and lungs.

Damian rested his head upon the man's chest as they left his bedroom letting the door close softly behind them and made it into the dimly lit hallway. The sparse light was welcomed, for the boy had been in the dark of his room for a little more than over half the day but the headache that was now surging through his skull said otherwise. Even the smallest things irritated him but his troubled state was involuntary and he couldn't help himself. The manor had been desolate for a while now with the little he could remember and the grayish haze that doused it further reimbursed that fact. The parties and charity events that would normally crowd the gala on the second floor were no more. His father had become adverse to them and politely, which always came of slightly solemnly, declined to hold any of Bruce Wayne's signature parties any longer or until further notice in that respect. Of course Gotham and society as a whole raised a collective eyebrow to this and the "playboy's" sudden change in his rather frivolous behaviour, but he never gave them a reason. He didn't make it known that his son was sickly and he didn't want to. His Father knew the repercussions as did all his allies that knew of the boy's state and none of the actions that could be taken were seen to be inessential, but naturally the reporters still tried to pry anyway they could with anyone they could get their hands on from the Bat Clan or anyone even associated with Bruce Wayne for that matter. Though it always ended the same way time and time again, they would refuse to speak on the matter and move on with their lives, but eventually it had gotten to a point of no return and more than often, there would news crews outside of his own window as he peaked through. Loaded with large cameras, tripods and microphones, with flashing lights, they practically encircles the manor, but his father would storm out, his deep baritone echoing off the deserted courts and marshalled them off the property at then a court ordered restraining order followed that.

It had been eerily quiet since those incidents, with only the light rustling of the leaves outside to poke through the silence to provide any type of noise through the winding hallways that they walked down, but finally they made their way to the gilded elevator. It was 5 corners down from Damian's room and it rested between two ridiculous ferns that has been placed there for decor, and the man, having to gradually resituate the boy on his hip, pressed the down button the the golden panel beside it. The few seconds after they stepped onto the shaft, the boy was able to glance out the adjacent clear window just in time to witness his dog, the one that had been absent to him ever since he was forbade entry into the manor, perched on the grassy banks of the deep blue lake in front of the manor. The barks that always seemed to rumble through the Great Dane and could be heard through the boy's window had long since ceased and he became silent, miserable even. Damian was nowhere near strong enough to handle the dog, for his condition had rendered him underdeveloped and far smaller than a ten year should be. He only rounded out at 55 pounds and had a height of 42 inches which gave him the appearance of a child half his age and that alone was factor enough for those around him.

The soft ding of the elevator that signaled its doors closing prompted Dick to enter the identical code to the batcave that was used for all it's entrances; the four digit code of 1048, and soon enough, they began to descend. The air around them became cooler and more damp as they went further underground and the boy shivered from the sudden absence of heat. Dick drew the boy closer towards his being in response and in turn, Damian fixed his arms tightly around Dick's neck.

The shaft jerked softly to a stop and the muffled rush of the waterfall that accompanied the cave could be heard beyond it's sealed doors and as they opened it roared to life. Stepping out of the elevator the strong scent of salts, still water, a lingering scent of Earl Gray tea and if he figured correctly the familiar smell of his father made it's way through his senses. The former etched itself into the back of his mind and it was particularly potent in the area near the batcomputer where the humid air wafted the most. He mused that his father must have been here rather recently, for the computers were usually left black and locked if he were out on patrol, and the air was left warm in the farthest part of the cave of which they were approaching. No less from the exhaust of the batmobile, but both were in place or yet out of place and it was far too early to be patrolling the city, no matter how the fall skies mislead. It didn't take long for his internal ponderings to be answered though as the stocky man that he had referred to within his thoughts was just around a set of sharply protruding stalagmites from the cave's floor along with the families faithful butler who was seemingly prepping the medbay for his arrival. His father was dressed in a pressed black suit with his hair slightly unkempt and an IV sticking out from his forearm where his sleeve had been rolled up. He appeared to have just come back from some type of board meeting with his company, how long ago was Damian's guess, but at the look of fresh bags underneath his eyes and the amount of blood that was being store in the plastic sack above him indicated at least an hour. It was strange to see his father here in front of him, for his presence was always scarce around the manor, if not at all. Going to bed all those nights before, when Dick made sure to tuck him in and stay with the boy until he fell asleep, all the two could hear or feel was the roar and the vibrations of the batmobile taking off from beneath the manor into the cruel streets of Gotham at the stroke of night, but to Damian, all he saw was the furrow of Dick's brows and the inward turn of his shoulders as he watched the jet of fire dissipate into the dark horizons. When his breaths became labored though is when that underlying anger would halt and his attention would diverge and focus entirely upon Damian. He would always take that time to run his fingers through the boy's locks and tell him stories about his old days in the circus, which they boy would always groan to, or whatever Damian really wanted to hear at that time.

The sound of Dick's heavy footsteps caused the aforementioned butler to perk up at them both as they came into view, his thin lips curling upwards underneath the wisps of hair that lined them.

"Master Richard, Master Damian." The weariness upon Alfred's wrinkled features was more than apparent to the boy, in fact the man was looking more aged and tired himself everyday.

Dick rebalanced Damian within his arms, bumping him back into a comfortable position on his hip before making his way up the small set of steps before him. "Got out patient."

The butter motioned with a nod of his head towards the cushioned examining table beside him, still attending to the boy's father. "It will take me just a minute longer to finish up with Master Bruce but do rest him on the table in the meantime."

And Dick obliged, but not before physically tensing at the sight of the boy's father. Damian, being held at the man's neck, heard him give out a sharp breath through his nose and the hand that was perched at his side turned into a clutch. Maneuvering himself around the small platform in which the four occupied he moved to rest the boy considerately upon the reclined chair, arranging his form in a position in which was the most pleasant and slowly let himself back up to stand straight. Damian on the other hand shifted his gaze to his father who sat a mere foot away, and watched as the dark substance traveled through the small tube and dripped into the IV bag that hung from a metal rod overhead. Damian had been lucky. One of the few who ever were in these types of situations if the records were correct. When the family had discovered that he had the Anemia, they were certain that he was going to need the transfusion in order to keep his blood count up to a satisfactory level and they needed a donor. It was out of the question to take him to the local blood bank to receive the transfusion and they also knew no matter how much his father gave them, they'd never let him take a "life's" worth to keep at the cave. The ones they did have at the cave however, were sparse, maybe a bag or two, but nothing that the boy could survive off of and they realized this rather quickly. They tested the blood types of those who were around which included Dick and Alfred, but they soon came upon the conclusion that his father was the only match. Coincidence or not no one questioned it, but the decision that his father gave to be Damian's sole donor had some reserves from the other two men due to the fact that he could only give so much at a time and it would eventually become taxing but he ignored them all together, simply stating that it was their only option.

Even now his father gave quite a sum, but just enough that he could function afterwards and the other bits and pieces would come from the other allies who managed to get their hands on whatever they could find. Dick constantly joked about Damian now having "a piece of his father inside him." but he found it distasteful, even if it was only to himself. He hated to be looked after and for others ,more importantly his own father, to surrender himself for his own sake. It made him feel helpless. weak. And above all else, it was the real reason Damian hated them.

Too immersed within himself he didn't realize the grimace that had found it's way upon his face, nor did he the tender hand that had rested itself into his hair. Dick was beaming down at him in obvious efforts to comfort him which the boy accepted and leaned into wholly.

"Alright Master Bruce,"Alfred spoke with a slight huff ,siphoning of the IV tubing. "I believe we are done for the evening sir."

The former stripped himself of the the rubber lace that adorned his bicep and let the butler wrap a fresh gauze taut around the injected area until it sealed in place, careful not to disturb any of the wounds that had already been inflicted there.

"Shall I prepare your quarters for your rest now then sir?"

"No," The man pushed out from the chair he sat in, rolling down his crumpled sleeve before ultimately undoing his shirt all together. "There's still work to be done."

Alfred met Dick's gaze. Both were tired and one was far more anger filled as well as wore down than the other, taking to boring holes into the vigilante's head before shooting it back down . It was a fool's game and they lost every time trying to speak reason to the man, or to get him to open his eyes to their reality instead of his. They'd been doing it for years.

Alfred's chest heaved in a large quantity of air as he pressed his lips together, his eyes briefly drawing shut before relinquishing the exasperated breath that he held in.

"Very well sir,"he approached the platform that the high rise chair to the vast array of screens was situated upon."I've taken the liberty to prepare those autopsy reports from last week's homicide that you requested involving the Black Ma-"

"Have they been loaded into the computer's mainframe and the cowl's database?"

Appearing from the back end of the cave, the dark haired man had shed his previous business attire in favor of his a newly reinforced batman armor that he had reformatted in recent months. It was thicker in plating which made it bulkier in form. The cape, a smooth firm leather with scalloped edges infused with metal blades,but most stark from all was that the suit itself was completely black save for the LED bat symbol embedded directly within the armored chest plate's center.

Taking his place in front of a certain screen, his gloved fingers glided across the holographic keyboard, typing in letters and codes before it focused on some place that resembled the redlight district in downtown gotham. The area was especially dingy and it was a breeding ground for drug dealers and big time prostitution rings but the absolute definitive crime lord who festered in this area was indeed Roman Sionis a.k.a The Black Mask.

The vigilante had been grounded in this case in particular and Worked endlessly day in and day out countlessly staking out various areas just to get closer to Sionis. Dick didn't really know the specifics due to him being out of the loop as of recent and he didn't think Alfred did either even despite being Bruce's first hand.

The man waited for whatever sign or signal he needed from the screen above him, preparing to create a window between him and his target and soon enough he got one. Black Mask, along with an entire entourage of guards and muscle, breached the vicinity of a high rolling club strapped with weapons and large duffle bags. Dealing with Sionis, he knew that virtually anything could be smuggled or hidden within them, but he couldn't stand there and wait to find out.

He gathered his cowl and placed it over his head, locking it into place and caused the eye lenses to glow a bright white Alfred had already moved back to the medbay and began to place electric nodes on Damian's chest, while Dick continued to glare at the man from behind, his fingers gripping the railing of the chair tightly.

Grabbing his utility belt he slung it around his waist, and it seamlessly magnetized itself to his armor. Bruce pressed a button on the side of his gauntlet and the mechanical as well as electrical machinery that the cave supported rose revealing a new stylized batmobile from underneath.

"Don't wait up for me." Was the curt exit reply to break through the tense silence that had formed around them all but before he could make his way to the batmobile, Dick strode over to the other man, gripping his arm with his expression hardening.

"Bruce."

But the man never faltered and only peered at him through the corner of eyes.

"Take care of him Dick."

His voice was gruff and barely above a whisper. Knowing that there would be nothing else to come afterwards from the other man, Dick stepped back and let his hand drop to his side in a balled fist. He watched on silently for Bruce had already jumped into the batmobile's cockpit before he had the time to utter another word, and zoomed out the cave's entrance, leaving the three behind in its wake. Dick stood in place, taking his frustrations out on the insides of his cheek in hopes that it would keep him from punching something or even someone and he couldn't help but sigh as he pushed his falling locks of hair from his eyes.

"So,"he took in a measured exhale rubbing at his face. "How did I do?"

From the sudden rush of crisp cool air that he had felt on his neck some minutes ago he hadn't even bothered to look up at the new presence in the cave, nor acknowledge the flash of bladed wings or the flash or black and red. Tim, or Red Robin currently, stood at the edge of a cliff within the cave that lead to a pseudo hatch underneath another lake and Dick wasn't about to ask when he arrived nor did he care really. Seeing younger boy's face in the weeks that he hadn't seen him helped to alleviate some of the stress he harboured within himself and he would gladly take anything.

The teen shrugged, adjusting the the satchel that was thrown around his shoulders. "As far as you can get with Bruce I guess. You know it's like pulling teeth with him Dick."

And if Dick was being honest, he knew this even before the idea of speaking to the directly was a heated and violent thought in his head, that it would go nowhere due to the fact that the man was so bullheaded as well as withdrawn at the worst of times. He expected it to say the least. Rolling his tongue around in his mouth, he finally looked up at Tim as he bent his knees and jumped from the cliff's edge, expanding the bird like wings that made up his cape in order to slow his descent. The grin that the boy had upon his lips had nothing but disappeared as he gripped the satchel at his hip prior to peering at the older man in front of him the lenses of his domino mask frozen in place.

"Where is he?"

* * *

"Hey Brat."

Damian, who was currently reclined in the medbay with that eyes had lowered into sluggish slits, lopped his head to face Tim who stood stiffly beside him.

"Drake."

Upon foreign ears they way the addressed each other could be seen as insults and before now they used to be. Within these last months the two had ceased with the hostility they previously carried out with one another and Instead, traded it for playful harmless banter if the gentle nudge that Tim delivered with his fist to the child's cheek was any indication. He had come to deliver the standard fare of medicine to help control Damian's Anemia, and Dick knew that it was indeed a task for him due the drug hoarding that was circulating around Gotham currently Drug dealers would sell anything that could get their hands on as long as they could make their money's worth off of it, and the junkies that inhabited the worst parts of the streets didn't care what the name was or the side effects that came with it, they just wanted their high, but he had heard the worst of cases. People dying from overdoses and taking enough of the high level stuff that could kill a full grown animal, but Tim was fortunate enough to get it straight for the source in recent times even if the price was hefty from scarcity. How he attained the medicine without anyone turning an eye however, was lost on him.

Dick wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed as he mulled over the thoughts in his own head, but as the whirring of the machine a hand away stirred him from himself, he realized that Damian, whose eyes had been open a few minutes ago, was fast asleep. His chest jaggedly rising up and down and Alfred carefully keeping vigil over his vitals while stirring a cup of what he assumed to be tea.

Noticing and feeling the absence of a presence that had formerly been beside, Dick searched for Tim, his gaze sweeping the stretch of the cave before eventually landing upon the familiar form at the basin of where the waterfall lead out with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Stepping off the platform, he made he way down to the furthest and lowest part of the cave, careful not to startle the younger boy in turn.

"Shouldn't you get going?"

Tim peaked over his shoulder at the man who was approaching him and briefly met his gaze. His domino mask had been peeled off and Dick could visibly see his eyes now. They was considerably duller in color, the vibrant blue that they once were, were now traded for gray and red, but whether or not the redness was from the mask or Tim possibly crying Dick wouldn't know.

He took a perch upon the rocky edge of the basin and dangled a leg over the ledge while propping his arm up on the other while still looking over at Tim and waited for a response, but the younger boy, now fiddling with the domino within his hands just stared up through the hole that opened a view the night sky. It was foggy out, but you could still faintly make out the gleaming of the stars above even through Gotham's usual smog.

"I should,"he spoke, giving a weak shake of his head. "But I don't think I can."

"Can't or won't?"

"I don't even think it matters at this point anymore Dick."

But Tim who seemed to understand Dick's real underlying question and the base of his worries quickly remedied it. "I told the Titans that if I wasn't back before the 24 hour window I gave or if they didn't receive a signal from me to just carry on without me or at least until I came back and gave Cass the reigns as leader."

Picking a nearby pebble, Tim reeled his arm back and released It, watching as it skittered across the dark sheen of the water below and plunk as It disappeared underneath it.

"So I'm guessing you went over your limit then, huh?"Dick ran his fingers over the rough bumpy surface before settling on a large enough pebble and threw one himself.

"Yea," Tim flipped a gray stone in his palm, admiring the its smoothness with the pad of his thumb." Cass can handle it though. They all can."

The boy gripped the stone in his fist, letting it dangle upon his thigh as he took to stare absentmindedly at the water beneath them, before his gaze became sturdy once more. And they both followed the skirts of water displaced in the stone's wake.

The inhale and exhale that Tim gave afterwards was a brief one as the boy set his shoulder back into themselves.

"I never thanked you properly for all the medicine you bring over."

Tim looked over towards Dick and saw that the man's eyes lingered on the same night sky he had been gazing at, but it somehow got clearer after the face. With stars of different hues bearing down upon the earth now.

"You don't have to,"he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders."He needs it. It's the least I can do for him."

The two went silent and simply chose to bask in the full moon's white vibrant glow. It was mesmerizing and it calmed Dick, even if only slightly in that moment, but then a smile breached his lips.

"I don't hate him you know."

The statement was enough to make Dick turn a confused eye back at the boy sitting next to him. Tim's head head was still propped upon his elbows with sunken eyes and his lips pulled thinly into each other. It was random, yes but before Dick managed to ask him where it came from the words died in his throat.

"Even before we got on...good terms,"Tim knew he lacked a better word."I didn't hate him."

"I mean I know we fought and we were always at each other's neck and when I met him for the first time I was angry, furious even, but I didn't hate _**him.**_ "

The boy's face scrounged. "I hated who he was as a person and the fact that he was another hurdle that I had to jump, but no matter how many bloody noses and broken jaws we dealt out to each other, the truth was I cared about him but everything else that happened between us made me feel like I didn't."

"When you told me he had anemia 6 months ago, I didn't really know what to make of it. A really dark, evil part of me, the one that I always try to forget and keep down got something out of it, but then the rest of me felt genuinely sorry for him."

"Maybe at the start, some bits of me tried to convince myself that I was helping him out of pity or because I felt obligated to do it, but then I realized that wasn't true. Blood or paper, Damian's my brother and no matter how bad things get and nothing, will change that."

Dick's hand reached out to squeeze his shoulder. The sentimentality towards Damian that he spoke of, never made its way to light until now and Dick wasn't even sure if Damian knew how strongly it went, but he knew, he had always known. Sitting there, in front of that waterfall and seeing how it flowed did all to remind Tim how plugged up the boy felt on the inside and caused him to bite his lip. It was the same pain and ache in Tim's chest that was still so fresh even now and caught in his throat. He didn't know why all of his emotional dilemmas were rearing their heads now or why he wanted to spill out what's been haunting him for the past half year or so. His eyes then met a stone at his foot and he picked it up grasping it as he mulled over his thoughts. Maybe it was because Dick was there and he finally had someone who would listen, but whatever it was it couldn't hold it in any longer.

"It's been hell in New York," Tim spoke his shoulders drooping. "No where near the crime levels in Gotham but still bad and before I left, we got word that some new super drug lord was using his crew to kidnap kids right out of homes and off the streets to use them as lab rats."

"And even before that,"he picked up yet another pebble and chucked it with such a force that Dick could hear it whiz past his ear. "One of our standards who was never major, got a hold of some reinvented venom that's even stronger than the one Bane uses, and snapped Gar's neck."

The third pebble Tim had within his gloved hand was all ready to be thrown with the potential, Dick thought, to break through the wall of solid rock on the other side, however he just threw it to the side of him a let his head rest back upon his knees.

Dick straightened himself, his eyes slightly wide as he began to reach out towards the younger boy. "Tim..."

But Tim only recoiled farther into himself.

"I lead that mission,"he started his voice hushed and muffled. "I lead it. There was no planning, no thought, we just went in there and I got my teammate killed."

The boy's voice trailed off at the end and Dick could see his expression on his face draw into that of one that perplexed even himself. It held anger,sadness and uncertainty, Something that he'd never seen from Tim, but he'd heard of the stories. Whether it being direct or accidentally "overhearing" one of Bruce's rar talks with the League or even Commissioner Gordon. Crime had gotten worse in addition to the drug rings that he already knew about.

The basic mugger could get his hand his hand on a gun with no limits now get bold and turn to murder due to the loose to non existent gun laws Gotham didn't care to maintain which meant more body bags to pile in at the morgue. Even Barbara, whom he could get into contact with every once in a full moon, now patrolled Gotham along with Bludhaven due to his absence confirmed its severity and had even had her own run ins with near fatal wounds. But he should have realized sooner that something was askew when Tim never mentioned anything but his time with the Titans or how whenever he did come down to the manor it was just to drop of the medicine that Damian needed and headed out the moment after, or even the disabling of his com link so that only he could call instead of the two way line that it normally would have. The man always figured that he needed space or time to himself since he knew the work with his team as well as trying to assist with the Enterprises was a lot to take on for any sane man and he wanted to give him at least that much and not pry, but the boy had been sending out silent calls that he wished he would have answered sooner for Tim was beginning to break and he alone had to hold himself together for all this time.

Dick felt like saying something, anything really but he knew that it would be better if he'd just listen, at least for now and he knew Tim wanted him to as well. To at least know that someone was, because at least Tim was talking to him.

So he braced himself for every word.

"Dick...,"his head raised from its perch atop his legs."I've never felt so unfocused before."

Tim turned to face Dick looking all the more sullen and the older man's own intense gaze never left him.

"I can't think straight any more. When I'm fighting I always feel off balance and I can't land any blows and with anything else, I just blank out most of the time."

"A-and I don't know if it's because of what's going on here, or what happened to Gar, or all the stress of everything else is getting to me..."A breath hitched in his throat as he paused."I don't want people to be right. I don't want my team to think I'm abandoning them because it got too much for me, and I don't want people to think I'm just a show because they think I'm compensating for feeling worthl-"

It wasn't even a second thought for Dick to reach out and embrace Tim with such a strength that he felt he'd crush his shoulders but he didn't care. He tucked the boy's head into the crook of his neck, his hand fisting in his hair as he laid his chin onto his head. It was a simple gesture, even to Dick, but he put his heart and soul into holding the boy in his arms, making every regret of not being there for him when he needed to be, known. He could feel Tim's arms wrap around him hesitant at first but they gradually increased in their grip within the jacket he was wearing.

"You're not worthless,"Dick's tone was stringent with not a word forced or misplaced. "Don't ever tell yourself that, okay?"

His only wordless reply was to bury his face deeper within the man's neck, and Dick took it as acknowledgement. He didn't need him to talk just understand for it was his turn to listen to him now.

"What happened to Gar isn't your fault, no one blames you for that and Damian's going to be just fine,"he pulled back on Tim's shoulders and saw the despair lodged within his eyes which prompted him to envelop the the boy farther within his hold, and his fingers to find their way into his hair once more."Everything's going to be fine."

They were quiet words. Words that he spoke mostly for Tim but secretly himself for reassurance whenever he felt himself slipping. Even though Tim didn't leave at the manor currently, Dick still felt responsible for him and with Bruce constantly off on patrol and barely being at the manor unless he needed to be on his terms, or anything Batman related, he had become somewhat of the definitive authoritative figure within the household. Of course there was Alfred, but Dick could see what their current ordeal was doing to the man, and if he could take the burden off his shoulders he would do so for Tim and Damian were both his brothers.

The waterfall that was cascading before them was thunderous even if it wasn't completely grand, but the sharp sound of something crashing against cement and rock was far more ear splitting to Dick. He released Tim, still gripping his arms as his eyes thinned trying to piece together what his senses had picked up on at that crucial moment and then he felt his breathing come to a screeching halt.

 _Damian._

It was involuntary. The speed at which he ran or how fast his heart was beating within his chest. The fear that welled within him drove him, compelled him forward over all the spare obstacles that stood in his way until he reached the medbay where he left him. Porcelain was lain in shattered pieces on the floor and the jagged, strained breathing that he heard was not from him yet from the boy a top the med table who was gasping for air. His hair was slicked from the sweat pooling down his face and his eyes were wild, his lips moving with the words he couldn't speak.

"Damian!"Dick darted to his side checking the monitor for his vitals that were skyrocketing with every passing second. "Alfred what's happening, what's wrong with him?!"

The elder man was scattering around the medical bay, retrieving tools from the drawers around him at a frantic pace.

"He is experiencing a severe acute hemolytic reaction to the blood transfusion he was given and if he is not administered 500 ml of saline immediately the young master will go into shock!"

Alfred was quick to fill a nearby clear pouch full of the solution and hook an IV at it's end and Dick could only dim out the erratic beeping from Damian's vitals as he bent down to soothe the child, running his fingers through his hair.

"I need you to listen to me Dami, everything's going to be fine just keep breathing okay."

Pressing his hand against either side of his face to get the boy to look at him, he could feel the dangerously high heat radiating from underneath the boy's skin and let out a low curse.

"Damnit, He's burning up!"

Dick sprinted, desperately trying to find the satchel that Tim had brought over, opening and shutting the cupboards that encircled them before eventually finding it wedged underneath more supplies. The clapping of thick soled boots upon the concrete met Dick's ears and he could see Tim make his way into the vicinity, skidding to stand back upon his two feet.

"What's going on!?"

"Damian's having a reaction to the transfusion!"

Tim's eyes were set into that of determination and made his way over to damian placing both his hands on the boy's shoulder. "I need you to sit up for me Damian."

Dick paused from his own endeavors and watched as Tim bent Damian up into a sitting position.

"Tim what are you-"

They younger boy's head whipped around."Does Bruce still have those spare oxygen tanks hanging around?"

"They're in the back room. Hurry!"

Tim ran of the platform and disappeared around the corner as Dick continued to

dig inside the satchel, he found a chilled ice pack and swiftly brought it over to rest it upon Damian's forehead, but was a hopeless attempt. He went back through the bag, mindful of how labored the boy's breath had become and grasped at a small bottle that contained blue pills labeled Acetaminophen. It was the second option that had been in the back of his mind, but if the boy was having difficulty breathing there was a great possibility of him choking on them.

Grunting, he threw them aside and ran to Damian, wrapping an arm around the boy's waist and placing a hand over his chest to help prop him up.

" _ **TIM!**_ "

Just then the teen appeared. A metal canister underneath his arm. He sat it down beside the med table and retrieved an oxygen mask from the metal table in front of him. Tim quickly placed it over the boy's face and twisted the nozzle of the canister as fast as he could until the compressed air within it came out with a low hiss.

With the transfusion line severed, the saline of which Alfred dripped through an IV and the oxygen mask that boy now relied on heavily to breathe through, the monitors seemed to steady gradually, but Dick could still feel his own heart breaking against the confines that held It. The boy eyes were no longer ferral and slowly began to drift close as he still tried to capture a proper breath.

"I do not understand,"Alfred had taken a seat upon a chair opposite the med table, his hand cupping his forehead. "T-this has never occurred before, I was careful to take precautions-"

"It's not your fault Alfred," Dick looked over at Tim who braced himself on the nearby countertop."You saved him."

"But at what costs?"Alfred's head rose."Why did it happen?"

Dick's eyes never left the child that was in his arms whose skin had turned even more paler than before and his skin, still burning. It had happened in only 10 minutes but to Dick, it felt like an eternity as the smell of salt and copper clouded his senses. Finally his brows knitted together as he pulled the boy closer to him.

"I don't know."

* * *

 **To be Continued**.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The chapters after the first will be shorter, but they'll still vary in length. This is kind of a fill in.**

* * *

There was a fine line between realities and dreams. One that could be bent or broken at anytime if you or the people around you wished it to be so for it was so easy to see what you wanted to see than to face what was already there. It was a skill that could be learned or taught and only a few ever master it completely, but those who don't end up breaking that fine line and trapping themselves in their own self made hell. Dick however had escaped his own confines, but he was still climbing and felt himself tripping along the way because blurring that line was the only rational way for him to find peace, even if it wasn't all completely for himself.

Opening his eyes, they slowly adjusted themselves to the glaring light peering down upon the med table from above. He could feel his mind throbbing dully against his skull with that familiar pain that he always got whenever he experienced those dreams that were constantly so vivid to him and that one had been no different. He remembered everything because he had constructed it himself out of the inner figments of his subconscious and melded it to his liking, but It backfired and instead twisted itself into that of a nightmare, a series of troubled thoughts. He always hoped they would never surface for he didn't want to wake up the next day to dwell upon it. He didn't want that to be his reality.

The labored breathing that came to his ears with the addition of the beeping of the monitors had engrained themselves within his being and were the only things that managed to tie him back down to the ground. They told him that he was alive and that the boy was fine, not struggling to breathe or choking on what he thought would be his last breath for that had all been a trick of his mind and reality trying to force him to slip back into that darkness that he had almost succumbed to so long ago, but he couldn't. He had to stay strong. He had be strong for him even if for anything else. He had to keep smiling.

"Are you alright Master Richard?"

Dick rose from his resting place on the edge of the med table and witnessed Alfred looking at him with knitted brows and a slight frown etched upon his lips, ceasing to stir the teacup that was held within his hands. The same teacup that had been shattered into pieces on the floor before now...

Giving a small shake of his head, Dick could already feel the false smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

"No, no, I'm fine Alfred, I'm just," he let out a shuddered exhale. "I'm was just a little tired is all."

Dick could feel the elder man's gaze linger upon his form for a second longer out of his peripheral before he could hear the light tinking of the tea being stirred once more and his eyes thinned. He tried with as much effort as he could muster to try and put the jumbled thoughts that swam through his mind together as his lips pursed.

"How long have I been out?"

His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, for he hadn't exactly regulated himself from his slumber yet, but Alfred lowering his teacup from his lips and back onto its china plate was sign enough that he had heard him.

"An hour I after you and Master Damian arrived here I presume."

And for the first time since he awoke, he reluctantly turned to look at the boy who was laying beside him. His eyes were shut and his lips barely open as he dozed, the sleep taking him fairly easily. Dick figured he had fallen asleep within the time that he had and watching over him now, Dick had decided that this was when the boy looked most sound as well as when he looked the least pained and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could. He would make sure of it.

"Chamomile?"

Dick's eyebrows raised.

"What?"

Turning, Dick saw that Alfred had managed to obtain a brand new steaming kettle that was gripped within his hand along with another single teacup perched upon a white saucer.

"I was inquiring if you wanted tea Master Richard and knowing that Chamomile is your favorite, I took it upon myself to prepare some for you."

"Alfr-"

"It doesn't take a fool to see that you're unsettled Master Richard," Alfred had taken to tipping the kettle over and let its contents stream into the cup below, its potent scent filling the air. "And with you living in the manor for quite some time now, I've been able to notice when you are lying."

The butler extended his arm to hand Dick the plate, which he took graciously with a simple nod of his head and a soft grin.

Dick folded his fingers around the cup's expanse, and brought it upwards, careful to blow one the nearly scalding tea before taking a small sip. He hadn't had it in so long, but it was refreshing once it met his tongue and in someone it calmed him, even If only for that moment. His gaze was locked on the boy in front of him as he watched his chest gradually rise and lower and his nose wrinkle now and then from the breeze that flowed through the cave. Without thought, Dick took the jacket that he had and placed it over the boy, dragging it upwards until it met his chin and he smiled when he saw Damian's expression relax itself from its previous fix and settle into the new warmth it provided.

It wasn't much, but he was okay so it would do. Yet there was still a ache that tugged within his chest that made him falter and he could feel it begin to wash over him in waves.

"Alfred."

The man himself who had been gazing upon Damian's vitals perked upwards.

"Yes Master Richard?"

And he paused for the words that he was beginning to form had caught in his throat briefly, but he found it within himself to push them out.

"There's-There's something I gotta go do."

Dick waited for a response, anything really from the man before him. Alfred's eyes had widened somewhat with mild perplexity, but soon enough they softened with that of understanding, his own eyes glimmering.

"Of course,"he took the teacup back from Dick."I've rested it on the counter in your room upstairs."

"Thank you." Raising from his seating, Dick stood in place for a moment's notice.

"Shall I accompany you outside?"

"No,"he bent over to smooth out Damian's fallen hairs."Stay here and watch over him."

He looked through the wide hole within the cave's ceiling to the stars the dotted the night sky.

"I won't be long."

He had visited his room first to grab a black trench coat from his closet and the bouquet of flowers he had bought earlier that morning before heading to the back of the manor. Bracing the chilling fall night winds of Gotham against his exposed face, he trudged through scattered leaves upon the winding paved path until he found himself gracing rows of rounded gray tombstones and stood in front of one in particular. The words were freshly engraved and its face was glossy with sheen and not a single crack in sight. Grass was beginning to grow through the earth that had been previously displaced and the crisp autumn leaves surrounded it as they slowly cascaded from the large oak trees above and his eyes thinned.

He could still smell the smoke from the fires that had engulfed the city from those times ago and he could remember the anger that he felt as well as the sadness and it was still there. Clawing their way into his very soul and latching all with such ferocity that he was certain he'd never be able to escape them. He hadn't been there and he cursed himself to this day because maybe if he had been he could have saved him and he could have lived, but that was why he did what he did. That's why he forced him to distort the memories and every thought since then, because he couldn't accept it. He wouldn't. The veracity was far too great as was his own true harsh reality when he silently read the name that line the tombstone and he could feel the hot tears gather at the corner of his eyes. It was a pain that he would have to live with like he'd done so many times before, and it would be a burden that he would carry until the end because he would never let them go. He stooped down the place the bouquet gripped so tightly within his fist at its base and straightened himself soon after, watching the gust of wind blow through the light colored petals as the fluttered in the wind.

"Happy Birthday, Timmy."


End file.
